


Guns for Information

by Manuscriptor



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, During the Apocalypse, Found Family, Gen, Trans Male Character, Transitioning, that's a familial relationship, treated respectfully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:21:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25006870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manuscriptor/pseuds/Manuscriptor
Summary: Offering: two hunting-grade rifles, each with detachable scopes, one box of ammunition per gun> additional: a revolver, one box of revolver ammunition, a machete, an assortment of knives and other shivs, mixed survival gear and skills for hireLooking For: hormone blockers, synthesized testosterone (must be safe to use/consume), a doctor able to perform gender affirming surgeries (double mastectomy)
Relationships: Abby Anderson & Lev
Comments: 19
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

“I thought you gave up on posting for those leads,” Lev said.

Abby shrugged, shoving his shoulder playfully. “This is one you’re going to like,” she said.

Lev perked up, jogging a bit to catch up with her. “Fireflies?” he asked.

They were walking through an overgrown area of suburbs of some city that Abby wasn’t sure the name of. She just had a street name, some numbers, and maybe a hospital. Each one was a potential lead for a different item that she had traded and bartered for. Lev didn’t see the point in it. As long as he had food and shelter, he wasn’t one to complain.

But Abby had a plan.

It had been several years since her and Lev had escaped the Rattlers. Abby didn’t like thinking about it. They didn’t talk about it either. They had found a house with a basement and had holed up there long enough to heal and grow stronger. After that, they were constantly on the move.

Abby didn’t trust large groups anymore. Anyone could recognize her and anyone was willing to sell information for a price. She wasn’t keen on getting tracked down a second time by someone who desperately wanted her dead. She didn’t make the same mistake twice.

She and Lev stuck to themselves mostly, scavenging food where they could and sleeping in houses that were abandoned or cleared by themselves personally. It was easier to deal with infected than it was to deal with other people. Lev didn’t question the solitary lifestyle. Abby would even guess that the kid preferred it. He always seemed jumpy when they went into bigger settlements. He didn’t always keep up with conversations and usually let Abby do the talking until they were far enough away.

“Not Fireflies,” she said.

Lev made a face, like he didn’t understand. “Then what?” he asked.

“You’ll see,” Abby said. She checked the scrap of paper that she had exchanged a full rifle along with a box of ammunition for. It had a single line of text scrawled in quick handwriting. It had taken months to track down alone, and even longer to find the house.

They were so close now. On the right street. The numbers on the buildings were getting closer to matching the one on the paper in Abby’s hand.

The small clinic was tucked into the back of what looked like it used to be an apartment building. It had been boarded up early on during the outbreak, probably when the first cases were being reported. Since it wasn’t a hospital or anything big, it most likely wasn’t required to stay open and wasn’t a target for any looters.

“Stand back,” Abby said.

She found a good grip on one of the boards across the store front and braced a foot against the wall. With a grunt of effort, she heaved against the board. The nails creaked and squealed and then gave way. Abby stumbled back as the board came loose, but then she tossed it aside and grabbed the next one. As soon as she had a hole to work from, it was easy to clear a space big enough from them to squeeze through.

“Come on,” she said. She pulled out a gun, even though there wasn’t any sign of infected anywhere else in the building. She wanted to be safe.

Lev pulled a knife and a flashlight, sweeping the beam about the room.

The shelves behind the counter were almost completely untouched. A few sections had been cleared before the place was boarded up, but most of it was still in neat dusty rows. A lot of it would be expired, but that wasn’t Abby’s main concern.

She pulled out her own flashlight, vaulting over the counter and stepping through the shelves, scanning the items quickly. She was looking for one thing in particular, and if it wasn’t here, she would march straight back to the man who had traded them the information and fire a shotgun right up his ass.

“Hey!” she said.

It was on the bottom shelf, not exactly where the man had said it would be, but close enough. She gathered the boxes, about a dozen of them, fumbling with the armful as she stood excitedly.

“Lev, look!”

She dumped the boxes on the counter, spreading them out and grabbing one to inspect it. Lev scanned the store one last time and then relaxed enough to join her. He flipped through the boxes disinterestedly, choosing one at random when he realized that they were all the same.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Hormones,” Abby explained. She found the expiration date, and, okay, it wasn’t good, but it also wasn’t the end of the world. “It’s like. . . . what causes your body to look the way it does. Kinda.”

Lev rolled his eyes. “I know that,” he said. He shook the box, listening to the contents. “Why is it important?”

Abby looked at him, wondering if he was joking or teasing her. “You’re serious?” she said when Lev just stared back at her blankly. “This is stuff for transitioning, dummy.”

Lev froze, like a deer in the headlights, and didn’t say anything.

He dropped the box he was holding and backed away.

Before Abby could say anything else, he was running out of the store, slipping easily out of the hole in the wood. Abby could just barely make out which way he went, craning her neck and staining to listen. His footsteps barely echoed as he ran up the stairs.

“Lev!” Abby yelled after him. “Lev! We don’t know if the rest of the building is safe!”

It was unlikely there were any infected. Still, it scared Abby to be separated from him. She swept all of the boxes into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and hurrying after him.

“Lev!” she shouted. “Where did you go?!”

It was still easy to track him. The entire place was covered in dust, barely disturbed for years. So finding the fresh pair of footprints, even with how light on his feet Lev could be, Abby worked her way up the floors, through the rooms and holes in the walls, climbing vines and tree roots until she made her way to the very top of the building.

Lev was sitting on the edge, tossing small rocks out into the street below. They were several stories up, nothing too bad, but Abby avoided the ledge.

“Lev,” she said, stopping behind him but giving him space. “What’s wrong?”

Lev was quiet for a moment. He tossed a couple more stones until his hands were empty, and then he sighed and looked down at his feet. He usually kept his hair short, but it had been growing out. They hadn’t had the chance to cut each other’s hair yet, so it was almost in Lev’s eyes now.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well, something’s up,” Abby said. She sank down, folding her legs and getting comfortable but staying alert for anyone or anything that might still be around. “So are you gonna talk, or are we just going to sit here?”

And they did just sit there.

For several long, quiet minutes, they just sat there and didn’t do anything. Lev scooped up a couple more rocks, but after he threw those, he didn’t bother with any more. Abby inched her way forward, still being careful of the ledge but wanting to get closer to Lev.

“I knew it was possible,” Lev finally said. He was quiet, almost whispering. “I, um, I always knew it. But I never wanted to give myself that hope.”

Abby threw a box at him, hitting him square in the back. It fell back on the roof, and Lev turned to look at what Abby had thrown at him. He didn’t look impressed.

“Don’t the Seraphites love the light and hope and stuff like that?” Abby said.

Lev looked back at her. He wasn’t crying. If anything, he seemed shocked that Abby knew what she was talking about. Or even brought up Seraphites in the first place. They didn’t talk about their pasts that much.

“Come on,” she said, leaning forward and grabbing the box. She ripped it open easily, tossing the cardboard aside for the bottle that spilled out. She broke the seal and then offered it back to Lev.

“One pump a day,” she said.

Lev reached for it, and Abby pulled it back.

“To clean, dry skin,” she said. “That’s what the box says. There’s a river a couple streets over, so can we please get off of the roof now?”

Lev smiled then and pushed himself to his feet. Abby stood, clapping him on the shoulder as they headed back towards the stairs.

Just like she said, there was a river a couple blocks over, breaking through the stone and concrete. It took several more minutes to find a spot the slowed enough to pool for them to clean themselves, but then it was easy to survey the area to make sure it was safe and then to dump their bags and supplies.

It was dangerous to strip and bathe unless you were certain the area was safe. So Abby and Lev just split a bar of soap from her bag and scrubbed their hair. Lev made sure to wash his hand and arms and shoulders thoroughly. They dried in the sun, laying on their backs on an abandoned car and dozing on and off in shifts.

Lev couldn’t wait until his hair dried completely and ended up wrestling a new box out of Abby’s grip, ripping it open and pumping the bottle until more than enough was on his palm.

“It said one pump,” Abby said, managing to finally get the bottle from him. But she was laughing and Lev was smiling from ear to ear.

He applied on his upper arm, just like the instructions said to, rubbing it in firmly and then beaming proudly at Abby. She just laughed and shoved the bar of soap at him, pointing back at the river.

“Wash your hands,” she said. “Now. That’s what the box says.”

Lev didn’t seem to care. He was still smiling as he took the soap and did as Abby told him too. He was smiling as they gathered their bags again. He was careful of his shoulder, but other than that, he didn’t stop smiling as they started walking again. They didn’t have any particular direction or destination, but Lev walked with a different eagerness. He usually walked behind Abby, but now he walked side-by-side with her, almost in front.

And he didn’t stop smiling.

*******

Months passed. They had more than enough boxes for Lev to continue using the gel every day, once a day. They made a habit of making camp near moving water, so Lev could make sure his arms and shoulders were clean for the medicine.

Soon, they needed to scavenge for razors too.

Lev didn’t want to shave, not at first. He prided himself on his mustache and beard once it had grown in, and it took weeks of Abby constantly bothering him until he promised to use her knife to cut it away. He woke Abby up a few days later, shaking her so roughly that she flipped him on his back and had him pinned to the dirt with a knife at his throat before she realized what was going on.

Lev was out of breath but didn’t seem to care.

“Look!” he said, wriggling free and pointing proudly to his face.

The beard was back. Already.

Abby rolled her eyes. “Jesus, kid,” she said, rolling off him. “Next time, don’t scare me like that.”

“It’s back!” Lev said, rubbing his hands along his chin. “You made me cut it off, and now it’s back.”

Abby rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. She fished the knife from her bag and threw it at him. “That’s what hair does,” she said. “Now shave.”

Lev caught the knife. Of course. He wasn’t as reluctant to do it now. He spent his entire morning by the river, cleaning himself and then using his watery reflection to give himself a shaky shave. He cut himself often, and Abby teased him on how most of their medical supplies went towards the nicks on his face.

She found him a mirror and shaving cream next.

Lev gained muscle too.

He had always been strong, strong enough to keep up with Abby and strong enough to survive. But now, he bulked out. They ate well for people on the run, and every day was a work out in staying alive. It took a couple weeks, but Lev’s arms were as thick as Abby’s, his thighs strong, and his shoulders and back muscled.

He was happier than Abby had ever seen him, laughing more often and joking too. He would sometimes grab Abby and wrestle her to the ground after they had set up camp, only when they knew there was no danger and their laughter wouldn’t alert anyone to their position.

Abby usually won, pinning him to the ground and threatening to spit in his face until he was screaming with laughter and promising that he would do anything she wanted, even if it meant taking the longer shift at night and letting her sleep in every morning.

And sometimes Lev won.

And those times, he would never shut up about it.

Abby hated it when he won.

She kept posting her notices, even though they had more than enough boxes of the hormones. Every time they had to go into a settlement or ran into a larger group that they ended up trading with, Abby made sure that she scribbled her offer on a piece of paper that could be passed around and posted somewhere. Sometimes they would stay for a few days, but most of the time they didn’t.

If someone had information, Abby eventually heard about it.

They found another cash of the hormones entirely by accident, and that was a reason to celebrate. Abby and Lev hunted a deer, and ate until their stomachs were bloated. They didn’t even bother sleeping in shifts that night. They passed out, sprawled on top of both their bed rolls, half on top of each other but still within reach of their weapons.

And that’s how life was for several months.

They fell into a routine like that. Making camp, taking the hormones, celebrating the small victories, and keeping the offers posted. They scuffled with infected a couple times, more than a few times they had to run from a settlement after Abby had to put someone in place with her fists, but that was life.

They were setting up camp after one of these times, tucked away in the back of a warehouse. One of the back corners had been eroded away by a fast, tumbling stream, so they couldn’t be cornered and still had a water source.

Abby was washing the blood off her hands and face, making sure her nose had stopped bleeding and that nothing was broken. She was fine. Lev was a few feet away, washing up in preparation for applying the hormones.

“Um, I haven’t bled in a few months,” he said casually.

Abby blinked at him, not understanding. “Bled?” she said.

Lev was staring down at the water. “You know,” he said, scrubbing his hands even harder. “Bled. Like monthly.”

It took Abby another moment before it clicked and then she smiled. She scooped a handful of water and tossed it at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she said. “Lev, that’s amazing!”

Lev finally smiled and splashed water back at her. “I don’t know,” he said and then shrugged. “I wanted to be sure.”

Abby dried her hands on her pants as she stood. “Want to celebrate?” she asked.

Lev had that permanent smile plastered across his face, proud of himself and how far he had come. He popped to his feet, shaking his hands to air dry them. “Like what?”

They were in a large city, Abby didn’t know exactly where. There were huge towering skyscrapers and streets that you could get lost in if you weren’t careful. A couple infected shambled here and there, but as long as they were careful, there wasn’t any real problem.

So they found the fanciest restaurant they could. The seats and booths were plush, popped at the corners mostly with the stuffing spilling out. The wine bottles in the rack behind the huge concrete bar were missing or shattered, but Abby rooted around in the basement and found a surviving bottle of vodka as well as several bottles of hard cider.

She and Lev took the finest table, the private suite with huge bay windows that looked out over the cities. The fish tanks that used to be in the room were shattered and empty, but went from floor to ceiling and would have been beautiful if they were filled with fish. They swept up the glass and had to bring in chairs from another room and brush the dust off the table but once the room was cleaned up a little, it was decently nice.

Abby showed Lev how to mix the vodka and cider so that it wasn’t too burning and they split sandwiches with fresh vegetables that they had gotten from the last settlement. They got so drunk that they didn’t even leave the room at the end of the night.

“Bodies are weird,” Abby declared, knocking her glass against Lev’s in an awkward toast. “I mean, fucking look at us. Look at the infected. What are humans?”

Lev giggled. He hadn’t stopped laughing for most of the conversation. Abby hadn’t asked, but she was pretty sure that he had never gotten drunk before this. “They are!” he said loudly. He was a loud drunk. “Nothing about it makes sense!”

Abby was laughing just as hard too, she just wasn’t as loud as he was.

“I remember,” Lev said, pounding a fist on the table. Loudly. “The first time I bled.” And then he got quieter. “Yara . . . . was the one who talked to me about it. Had that whole . . . . pregnancy conversation.” He laughed, almost sadly. “I didn’t get it at all.” He paused. “And then I did. And I hated it.”

Abby was quiet. She wasn’t really sure what to say.

Lev took a huge drink, emptying his glass, and then laughed, loud again. “Here’s to hormones,” he said, grabbing at the bottle of alcohol.

Abby snatched it before he could get his hands on it. “You need to slow down,” she said teasingly.

Lev opened his mouth, about to protest, until Abby handed him a plain cider instead. And they continued to drink. Eventually, they were laughing too hard for anymore conversation, talking about bodies and bleeding and everything in between, that they just collapsed on the floor, using their bags and pillows and huddling for warmth when the night got too cold.

In the morning, Abby raided the basement and found a couple more unbroken bottles of alcohol and stashed them in her bags. Lev had a headache and didn’t want to actually wake up or get out of bed. Abby just shoved a bottle of water into his hands, and they traveled a little bit slower that day.

Abby didn’t even bother him about shaving.


	2. Chapter 2

They had gotten the information from a small group that was traveling through the same city as they were. The stuffy old man Abby had talked to said he knew a doctor that could do the surgeries she was looking for, but took one look at Lev and put his hands over his pockets. 

“He don’t like Scars at all though,” he said. 

Despite his beard, you could still sometimes see the scars that stretched out from the corners of Lev’s mouth. Lev’s hands went immediately to his bow, and Abby stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. No need to pick fights with someone who could help them.

The old man didn’t look that impressed. “He’ll take one look at you and refuse to help,” he said. 

“We’ll see about that,” Abby said. 

“Not my problem,” the man said with a shrug. “Now, my gun?” 

It was such little information and barely helpful at all, and Abby felt bad about holding up her end of the agreement. Still, she had made a promise. She pulled the rifle from her bag and then fumbled through her pockets until she found the box of ammunition. She really didn’t want to hand it over, but the man was looking at her expectantly and they wouldn’t be able to fight the entire caravan. 

She and Lev left immediately after, not letting the man’s smirk follow them too far. 

“I can track them,” Lev said. “He said that they were headed east. Plus, if the group is as large as he says it is, then we’ll be able to spot them from _miles_ away.” 

“Don’t forget about infected,” Abby said. “The east is just as densely populated. That’s hundreds of thousands of infected.” 

Lev just tightened his grip on his bow, walking faster, more determined than ever. “I’m not going to let that stop me.” 

And Abby wasn’t going to let it stop her either.

“We’ve just got a long way to go,” she said. 

Lev was still marching forward. “That’s never stopped me before.” 

They travelled relentlessly. They slept for only the couple hours at a time, never really setting up camp. They ate as they walked, relying on salted and cured meat and canned fruit and vegetables. Stuff that could be eaten quickly with little preparation. 

They slaughtered any infected in their path. Lev took to the killing like he was working out his frustrations. Every kill was efficient and neat, dispatching infected like he was a machine. Abby didn’t comment on it. If anything, Lev hunted with more proficiency, wanting to get to their destination and find their target as fast as possible. 

Whenever the trail ran cold, they found the nearest settlement or civilization and asked around. 

That was how they had ended up on a small plantation, the safety of tall wooden fences keeping out the infected and the resources of animals and well-tilled gardens allowing the community of seventy-five or so people to thrive. They were self-sufficient, keeping to themselves without much care for the outside world. They traded with anyone who happened to pass by and provided shelter and limited food and resources but didn’t care for conflict that didn’t involve them.

Lev and Abby were able to shelter there. 

They refilled their water canteens and were given chicken jerky, pickled eggs, and dried fruit and two horses in exchange for a couple bottles of alcohol, a handgun, and Abby spending a weekend helping one of the locals deliver her child. Food and water and transportation . . . . and the location of the caravan that they were hunting. 

Lev wanted to leave as soon as Abby finished, cornering her by the barrel of water as she washed blood and afterbirth off of her hands.

“We need to go,” he whispered. “The caravan is moving fast, these people said as much. If we wait too long, the location they gave us will be useless.” 

“I need to make sure she is okay,” Abby said, soaping up her hands and scrubbing furiously. Her dad had taught her that much. “If she makes it through the night and is stable in the morning, we’ll leave immediately.” 

Lev slammed his fist into the wall. 

“Don’t let them see you do that,” Abby warned quietly. While the group didn’t like outside conflict, they didn’t hesitate to protect themselves. Anyone aggressive was either escorted off the plantation or eliminated altogether. 

Lev crossed his arms and stomped away without another word. 

Abby wanted to go after him, to assure him that they would make it. They had come this far and waited this long. Another day or two wouldn’t be the end of the world.

But she had to get back inside. 

The newborn was crying, which was a good sign, but Abby wanted to give both it and the women a proper examination, just to make sure there weren’t any problems. She stared at the path Lev had taken for a moment longer, drying her hands thoroughly, and then headed back inside. 

The woman was exhausted and tearfully thankful, sobbing and stuttering praise and worship as Abby cleaned her thighs of blood. Abby accepted it all graciously, showing the women how to nurse and then helping wipe the snot and tears from her face. 

It only took minutes before both the woman and her new baby were asleep, peaceful and perfectly healthy. 

Abby took an hour or two to show the equally grateful partner how to properly clean the diapers and bandages so that as few germs and infections would be exposed to the woman and the new life. Then she returned to her bed in the guest house that they had provided her, realizing just how tired she was herself as she lay down. 

Lev wasn’t there. Abby wanted to stay awake and wait for him to come back, but after a couple minutes, she was asleep before she could stop herself. 

Lev wasn’t there in the morning either, but Abby didn’t have time to worry. She ate a quick breakfast before going to check up on the woman and baby. 

They were much more lucid in the morning but just as thankful. Abby looked over the baby, satisfied that it was nursing properly and that the woman was producing milk and the tears and bleeding had stopped and showed signs of being on the mend. 

She talked with the partner a bit more, explaining how to care for the woman and baby and any extra nutritional advice. The partner listened with rapt attention, even taking notes as they hung onto every world. Finally, Abby was finished with everything she needed to do and say. She wanted to find Lev and leave as quickly as possible, just like she promised. 

“Um, we wanted to name the child after you,” the partner said, catching Abby’s wrist to stop her from walking off. 

Abby’s first instinct was to throw off the touch and have them pinned against the nearest wall, a knife pressed beneath their shoulder blades, for touching her. But she stopped herself, took a breath, and tried to smile as genuinely as she could manage. 

“If that is okay with you, of course,” the partner said. “I . . . I don’t want to assume anything and . . .” 

Abby looked past them, back through the open door of the house where the woman was sleeping peacefully and the child was nursing properly. She wanted to grimace and say no. She didn’t want to influence another life like this, not give them a name that wasn’t _really_ theirs. But the woman’s partner was looking at her expectantly, and she wasn’t sure if she could turn them down like that. 

“Of course,” she said with a forced smile that she desperately hoped looked genuine. “I am . . . . honored.” 

The partner beamed at her, clasping her hand tightly and shaking it enthusiastically. “Thank you so much!” they said. “I don’t think we could have guaranteed my wife’s safety, let alone my child’s, if it wasn’t for you.” 

Abby nodded, trying to pull her hand free without looking rude. “It’s no problem,” she said. “Now, I need to find my travel companion. We need to leave as quickly as possible.”

“I think I saw him in the barns,” the partner said. They finally let go of her hand. They laughed. “He keeps to himself, doesn’t he?”

Abby didn’t even respond. She twisted her hand free and hurried away. 

She knew where the barns were. Even with just a couple of days, she had most of the layout memorized. The plantation wasn’t that big, and in minutes, Abby was at the barn. She slipped through the double doors, being careful not to let out any animals. 

“Lev,” she called. “We can go. We need to leave quickly.” 

Lev dropped from the beams, as if out of nowhere. “I didn’t mean to disappear,” he said, almost embarrassed but not quite. He scratched his chest. “I just . . . . had some thinking to do.” 

“Of course,” Abby said. She didn’t want to press him for an explanation. She felt awkward asking and he clearly felt awkward answering. “Um, the horses are all saddled and ready to go.”

Lev nodded and pushed past her. 

Abby turned and followed him without a word.

The horses were indeed already saddled and tacked up. They were skinnier but still healthy, still obviously able to travel. As soon as they were on the road, able to graze where they wanted, and allowed to roam, they would put on weight and muscles. Still, it was a relief to load up the saddlebags instead of their backpacks. Easier, too. 

No one came to tell them goodbye. The front gates were opened and they left without a hassle. With the whole day in front of them, they wanted to cover as much ground as they could. They rode in silence too. They stopped at different watering holes to let the horses rest. Lev washed his arm and took his hormones. Abby ate a couple bites and then got bored. 

In a couple days, they found the tracks of the group they were looking for. 

It was pretty easy following the huge swaths that the caravan cut out to make camp. They left tracks and marks and garbage everywhere they went. All Abby and Lev had to do was follow the trampled grass and burned-out fire pits and it was as easy as that. 

They looted as they went too, collecting bandages and pain medication as well as blankets and pillows. The anesthesia they found in one small clinic was a stroke of complete luck. Once they found the doctor and after the surgery, they would have to bunker down for a while. They also needed to be prepared for Abby doing most of the hunting and scouting while Lev recovered, and that meant more medicine than seemed appropriate and pillows and blankets to spare. The horses were able to carry most of it with ease. 

They finally caught up with the caravan late afternoon after a week of tracking the group. 

They spotted the newer piles of garbage and the still-burning embers of the fires and then they saw the wagons, cobbled together and wooden but sturdy and packed full of supplies. 

They kept their distance. No point in giving away their location too early. 

It was easy to find the doctor they were looking for. He rode near the back of the caravan, sitting on a wagon and keeping to himself. He wasn’t even on his own horse, and as far as Abby could tell, unarmed. It was almost laughable. They had heard so many stories about the doctor, but seeing him as just an underfed, jittery, unarmed non-threat was almost jarring. 

The plan was simple. 

Or maybe not simple. 

The group was just about to exit the rundown city via a half crumpling bridge littered with cars. Abby and Lev would cut the last wagon off from the rest of the group when they crossed. With the wagons being so big and unwieldy, they would have to cross one at a time and maneuver the cars slowly. They could wait for the rest of the group to cross and then ambush the last wagon. 

With the way the doctor had been described, Abby expected there would be a fight. 

Once the group was neutralized and they had hostages, forcing the doctor to do as they wanted would be easy. Abby could intimidate most people to do what she wanted. They would kill if they needed to. 

The group decided to cross the bridge that night, probably hoping to get across it and set up camp for the night. Abby and Lev watched from a distance. Lev’s leg was bouncing, and he kept tearing up blades of grass and shredding them. Abby didn’t stop him. 

It took hours. 

The wagons were clumsier than the group anticipated, and it was getting dark by the time every wagon but the last one was across. Most of the group had to move with each wagon, at least, the able bodied of the group, bracing their shoulders against the sides and lifting the wagon over cracks and potholes. It looked exhausting and worked in Abby and Lev’s favor. 

With most of the stronger ones of the group gone with each wagon, the tail end of the caravan was left entirely unguarded. 

Abby and Lev took them completely by surprise. 

They knocked out the two armed guards that had been left behind easily, and when the others in the group pulled knives and bats, Abby just had to point a gun at one of the guard’s head and they all froze, terrified. 

“Doctor Alexander Harris,” Abby barked. “We know you’re here.” 

The poor man crawled out of the wagon, hands in the air. He didn’t even seem to have a knife on him. 

Lev kept his bow trained on the other guard and Abby motioned for Harris to step forward and she roughly patted him down. He was really, truly unarmed. 

“You,” Abby said, pointing her gun to a younger looking kid who was trying to hide behind the wagon wheels. “Cross the bridge. Tell the rest of your group that you’ll be joining them in a couple hours. Don’t come back. No one will be hurt as long as you cooperate.” 

The poor girl was shaking but nodded obediently and after a moment, took off running. The rest of the group huddled together for safety. Abby didn’t pay them attention. 

“Harris,” she said. 

At his name, the man flinched and hunched in on himself. He clearly hated being the center of attention. 

“I’m told you can do surgeries,” Abby said. 

And Harris finally looked at her, hatred burning in his eyes. He sneered at her, not as pathetic as she first assumed. He clearly still had some fight left. 

“Just because I’m a doctor doesn’t mean I can just do _any_ surgery,” he spat. “You people have no idea what it means to be a medical practitioner.” 

Before Abby could say anything, Lev stepped forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking it down to show the tight binder underneath. 

“Double mastectomy,” he said. “I know you can do it. We have the medicine.” 

When Harris saw Lev, his expression twisted even more. “Get that Scar away from me!” he said, actually stepping away and gathering his jacket around him, as if Lev had a disease he might catch. 

Abby stepped forward in a flash, grabbing a handful of Harris’s greasy hair. She brought his head down and her knee up, being careful to land the solid strike on the bridge on his nose. It broke with a clean crunch, but Abby didn’t let go. She leaned down so she could hiss in his ear as he wailed through the pain, hands flying to grab at the blood and pain. 

“I don’t think you need your legs to perform surgery,” she said. “I’ve done amputations myself. Not all of them were clean, but everyone has survived. That I know of. Do you want to rethink your approach?” 

Harris was sobbing, tears and snot and blood streaming down his face. Abby finally let him stand up.

“I . . . . I’m going to need a clean space to work,” he said, voice just as shaky as the rest of him. 

Abby and Lev had already planned ahead. 

They unpacked their bags of cleaner and disinfectant and blankets they had washed meticulously. In moments, the back of the wagon was cleared enough and set up for impromptu surgery. Abby and Lev tied up the guards. Abby didn’t want to tie anyone else up and let them know that. As long as they cooperated and kept their distance and didn’t cause any trouble, Abby wouldn’t need to use force. 

Harris finally stopped bleeding and cleaned himself up. He didn’t look happy about the circumstances, but he moved with professional quickness, ordering Lev to strip out of his shirt and binder and for them to give him all the medical supplies they had collected. 

It was the only time Abby let herself be bossed around by him. 

Soon Lev was laying back on the blankets, the anesthesia applied, both local and general, in case one didn’t work as well as the other. Abby held his hand until he fell completely asleep and then she turned on Harris, shoving her gun against the back of his neck.

“You’d better not fuck this up,” she hissed.

As nervous as Harris looked, he worked quickly and efficiently. 

Abby and Lev had worked hard to collect as much supplies as possible, so Harris had a wide array of knives and scalpels and medications to work with. He tossed the unneeded tissue into a garbage bag, stitched up the incisions, and made sure any excess skin had been trimmed down. Finally, after hours of work, he stepped back from his work space, taking a moment to strip off his gloves and wash his hands and forearms thoroughly. 

“This wasn’t the ideal work conditions,” he said to Abby, still glowering at her. “So grafting and keeping the nipples was too risky. I did the best I could.” 

“No complications?” Abby said, leveling her gun at his chest. 

Harris swallowed hard. “No,” he said. “Make sure . . . . make sure _he’s_ on pain medication though. The anesthesia can only do so much and . . . . and there’s a long recovery ahead.” 

Abby didn’t let her emotions of relief and excitement cross her face. Instead, she gestured for him to move aside with the barrel of her gun, and she stepped forward to look over Lev herself. With what little medical knowledge she had, Abby still wasn’t sure what she was looking for exactly. 

Lev’s chest was an angry red, inflamed and still bloody with a mess of stitches across the underside of his chest. It was flat though, and the cuts all seemed clean. As long as they kept them that way, then recovery would be that much easier. 

“Alright,” Abby said, turning back to the small group that was huddled anxiously off to the side. 

The guards had woken up at this point, angry and confused that they were tied up. They kept quiet though, and the rest of the group hadn’t been any trouble. They had sat quietly, nervously, waiting for Harris to finish his work. Now, he retreated quickly to them, like chicks huddling together as if that would protect them. 

Abby had to stop pointing her gun at them for a couple moments while she scooped Lev up. She cradled him to her chest as gently as she could with one arm and two backpacks slung over her shoulders. She fumbled with her gun but managed to get it back up, pointing it at the group again as she backed away. 

“They stay tied up,” she ordered, pointing to the guards. “But you’re free to go. If you even _think_ about coming back to find us, I will hunt you down and make sure each and every one of you _and_ your families is slaughtered in the most painful way possible. Understand?” 

The group nodded and murmured their agreement, clambering to get back on the wagon and get moving again. 

Abby didn’t even wait to see if they made it across the bridge. She retreated quickly into the shadows, purposefully taking twists and turns and a path that doubled back on itself a dozen times just to make sure she wasn’t followed before finally letting herself head back to the house they had chosen specifically for recovery. It was exhausting but worth it.

The basement was insulated and quiet, not too hot and not too cold. They had lugged sofas and mattresses and cushions down to make it as comfortable as possible. Their stash of food and water was stored carefully off to one side, their weapons next to that. 

Abby set Lev down on their makeshift bed as gently as she could, keeping him propped up. She double checked his bandages to make sure none of the stitches had broken and blood hadn’t soaked through. But everything looked fine. 

She ground up pain medicine into some water and then coaxed it down Lev’s throat. Even unconscious he cooperated.

Abby cleaned the space up, mostly because she was nervous and didn’t want to lay down. Finally though, the events caught up with her and the adrenaline died down. She collapsed next to Lev, being careful not to jostle him, and fell asleep. 

The next weeks were filled with making sure Lev recovered as quickly and healthily as possible. He woke up just fine, a bit groggy, and cried as soon as he saw the bandages. He tripped over his words assuring Abby that they were happy tears and that he was fine and not to worry. He ate a bit of food, took more pain meds, and then passed out again. 

He couldn’t move his arms that high and even when he stood and walked, it was gingerly and carefully. But he refused to stay in bed. He walked around the small basement, trying to stretch his range of reach and movement. Abby told him he should just heal first before trying anything drastic. 

Lev didn’t listen to her for the first time in a while. 

Two weeks later and the bandages came off for good. Lev cried all over again, even though a few of the stitches needed to fall out and the redness and swelling still had to go down. Abby continued the hunting and looting, bringing him back books and anything else to occupy himself as he healed. She routinely swept the area of infected, keeping it cleared and safe. She burned the bodies as discreetly as she could, so that anyone passing by wouldn’t know they were staying there.

At the end of the third week, Lev was finally able to lift his arms enough to put on a shirt. He couldn’t pull back the string of his bow, so Abby gave him every knife they had and made him promise to stay close to her. 

Lev was just excited to get out of the basement again. 

“I want to go swimming,” he said as they walked through the broken down city. Abby kept her guns out and ready, scanning for any movement. Lev was just enjoying the sunlight. “I haven’t been swimming in forever.” 

“I thought you didn’t like the ocean,” Abby said teasingly. 

Lev made a face. “Not swimming in the ocean,” he said. “Just . . . . swimming.” 

“That’ll be next on our list,” Abby promised. “Here.” 

They reached a small park, and the clearing around the long-broken fountain was sunny and well-lit and not as overgrown as the rest of the park. A perfect spot to stop and rest. They set down all their things, and Abby helped Lev pull off his shirt. 

They ate a small meal, not talking too much, just enjoying the day and each other and the quiet. Lev leaned back and tipped his face to the sky, like he had never felt the sunlight before in his entire life. 

Abby didn’t tease him for it. There wasn’t any need to. 

That was just life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> logically, this isn't the best way to get top surgery but emotionally, this is my ideal way to get top surgery if you know what i mean
> 
> hey i'm on tumblr @manuscript-or

**Author's Note:**

> don't take expired medications unless you're transitioning during the apocalypse


End file.
